


It's Over

by YuGiOhRox



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Hint: I failed, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, This was a school project I rushed in half an hour, also background-ish and not terribly important other characters but ehh, i am not proud, or at least me trying to write it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuGiOhRox/pseuds/YuGiOhRox
Summary: It’s over,’ Alister thought. ‘It’s really over.’The war had been won, the fighting had stopped and the soldiers could go home. It was a peculiar thing to think about after all the time he’d spent on the battlefield, after every day he’d fought, dreading that his last moments were upon him, he could stop.





	

‘It’s over,’ Alister thought. ‘It’s really over.’

The war had been won, the fighting had stopped and the soldiers could go home. It was a peculiar thing to think about after all the time he’d spent on the battlefield, after every day he’d fought, dreading that his last moments were upon him, he could stop.

Alister shook, his knees knocking so intensely that he heard his cuisses and greaves scraping against one another, the sound making him wince. His sword fell to the ground, his hands trembling so badly that he couldn’t keep his grip on it. The clattering sound it made as it hit the stones startled him, and his legs went slack, forcing the soldier onto his hands and knees.

_Plip_. _Plip_. His eyes stung as the tears fell, hitting the inside of his helmet in a rhythm that he focused on desperately. _Plip_. He pushed his right arm forward and dragged his right leg with him, the metal scraping on the floor. He winced, the sound reminding him of a blade pushing against his own and the yell forcing that blade onward. _Plip_. He struggled to move his left arm forward, unsure of whether or not he could safely move his left leg. Alister wouldn’t drag it again, not if it would bring another memory rushing back.

In an attempt to lift his left leg and crawl forward again, his shaking hands stopped supporting him, making him fall to the ground. When he tried to stand, Alister found that his legs wouldn’t stay still and he knew he would only fall again. Crawling, as pathetic as it made him feel, would just have to do.

_Plip_. His body moved forward. _Plip_. And he moved it forward again. _Plip_. And again. He went like this until he slowly reached for a sheet. It was covered in dried blood and smelled rank, but it was exactly what he wanted. The soldier laid it out on the ground to the side of him before he began his work.

The helmet came off first; Alister threw it to the ground in disregard. His gauntlets were thrown away after it, clattering and skidding over the stones. Alister broke out in a cold sweat and his trembling got worse. With shaking limbs, he removed his pauldrons, throwing them behind him as he thought about what to remove next. The rearbrace was taken off next, then the couter and vambrace. Alister threw them all off to the side somewhere and heard them clank on something. It was probably another piece of the armour but he didn’t give it much thought. His eyes were fixed on his body to avoid looking at any of it. It was a struggle to untie the leather that kept the arm harness on tightly, his fingers shook so badly that the tips ended up scraping against a bit of the sharp metal and drops of blood began to run over his hand. It didn’t matter, he hadn’t felt anything, he just needed everything _off_.

Eventually, the harnesses also fell to the ground. He picked them up and threw them away, a drop of blood falling on his face as he did. His eyes widened, and Alister’s lips started to tremble, his chin scrunching up as tears, once again, pooled in his eyes. He lifted his hand, holding it in front of him as he remembered the very same crimson colour coating his sabatons as he walked past a mountain of dead bodies on the field. They’d been dragged off at some point and dumped in a ditch, the corpses piling up as weeks went by and countless more lives were lost. Alister remembered the same crimson colour coating his sword as he pulled it from the enemy he’d just run through.

Slowly, his hands covered his mouth to muffle his sobs and Alister bit on a finger to try and focus on something else. The soldier still felt too numb to feel pain, but the sharp taste of blood on his tongue made him start coughing and, as he clutched his throat, he felt that would suffice for the moment.

A sudden, foul change of smell forced him to cover his nose instead. Alister turned his head and saw that the fallen soldiers he’d recently fought alongside were being brought over. In the corner of his eye, he saw a flame and guessed that this would be the closest those men would get to a funeral. He tried his best not to think too much about them and turned back to his task, only wishing that the spirits of those warriors would not go to hell.

It didn’t take too long to take off the cuirass, gambeson, cuisses and cod piece. The bodies’ stench had strengthened his desire to take off the metal and leave, and with a flame so nearby then, Alister felt warmer than he had in weeks. He’d even stopped feeling so numb; he could feel his fingers again.

After most of the armour had been removed and cast away, Alister only needed to take off the greaves and the sabatons. Placing his hands back on the floor, he pushed himself off of his knees and lowered his body into a more comfortable sitting position. Like that, it was easier to get to his calves and feet and the armour was off him at last.

Alister felt more warmth and turned his head back to the corpses, flinching when a bundle of ashes almost hit his eye.

‘The fire’s been lit,’ thought Alister. ‘It’s over. It’s over.’ He grabbed the sheet beside him and wrapped it around him as he repeatedly thought those words to himself, until the sun started setting and the only light left was from the bonfire eating away at the bodies of his former comrades.

 

It was a cold, wet and windy morning when Alister finally got to return home. He kept an arm pressed tightly to his forehead to try and shield his eyes from the rain as he dragged his feet through the mud, hoping to reach the outskirts of his village as quickly as his sore feet would let him.

Alister tripped, and fell into the dirt with a squelch. He froze, remembering how often he’d trip over a body; sometimes someone who was quietly pleading for help, struggling to hold onto life, sometimes a fallen soldier.

A coach came ten minutes after he fell, and the driver offered to let him ride with him until the soldier stopped shaking. Alister took the hand the driver offered him and climbed up, looking straight ahead as the reins snapped and the horses began to trot steadily along the roads. The driver talked a lot, but he didn’t hear any of it, too focused on steadying his breathing before he paid attention to what a stranger had to say.

Half an hour later, the driver ceased talking, and the two of them rode in silence.

Ten minutes after that, the rain stopped.

And finally, twenty minutes later, Alister saw his village appear before his very eyes and asked the driver to stop the coach so he could leave, thanking the stranger for his kindness before he ran on ahead to his home.

Another five minutes, and he was in his mother’s embrace as she wept on his shoulder, so glad that he was alive. He wiped away her tears and hugged her back, as she started chanting softly in his ear. “You’re home. You’re home.”

It was a pleasant reminder, and he smiled softly, even if he didn’t completely believe it.

 

That night, when he was finally able to rest in his own bed again, Alister was plagued by nightmares. More memories of everything he’d seen during the war ran through his mind.

Alister didn’t sleep as peacefully as he wanted to that night.

 

Three years after the war had ended, and Alister had been able to lay down the sword and shield, he’d met a girl, started a family and began to enjoy his life for the first time in what seemed like decades.

Three years after the war had ended, trouble had stirred in the South, and the Kings had waged battles all over the country.

Three years after the war had ended, a messenger knocked on the door to Alister’s home and handed him a conscription notice.

Three years after the war had ended, Alister left his wife and child crying, with their heads in their hands, while the soldier set out to another war.

Three years after the war had ended, Alister stood among thousands of other soldiers, his knees knocking together and tears running down his face as he thought, ‘It’s over. It’s really over.’

**Author's Note:**

> I do apologize for the shitty and rushed ending, school is not easy.


End file.
